


Raised by Giants

by gladheonsleeps



Series: Harry from the forest [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (the house elves have decided and it is so), (they're children), AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Filius Flitwick makes some Decisions, Fix-It, Harry Potter didn't just save the wizards, Harry Potter isn't white, Harry has a childhood, Harry is just a really different person because his upbringing is way different, Hufflepuff Neville Longbottom, M/M, Pre-Slash, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Ravenclaw Theodore Nott, Rubeus Hagrid has a first name, Rubeus Hagrid raises Harry potter, Rubeus Hagrid tries real hard okay?, Slytherin Rubeus Hagrid, Theo Nott is a Good Boy, creaturers have an accord, creatures and beings make decisions, don't at me, gender neutral: wix, magic sensitive!Harry Potter, other surprises and decisions, this is a feel good story, vaguley disapproving of some characters but not really bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladheonsleeps/pseuds/gladheonsleeps
Summary: When Hadrian James Potter felled the Dark Lord Voldemort, it wasn't only wixenkind who celebrated their newfound freedoms. When the Chief Warlock then moves to leave their apparently beloved little Harry Potter on a doorstep on a blustery November night it is the creatures that step up to care for and raise the Boy-Who-Lived. In the process the Boy-Who-Was-Left-Alone becomes something that no one quite expected. Not Voldemort, certainly not Dumbledore, nor any other wizard either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd an all that 
> 
> author's note at the bottom

Rubeus Hagrid found the muggles to be the wrong sort to be raising a bairn. He trusted Dumbledore; or at least he thought he did. But he also knew that when Minerva spoke up about something it was good to listen. 

Over the years at Hogwarts as the gamekeeper and in the days of the Order of the Phoenix he'd realised that Dumbledore had  _ ideas _ about things. He was a philosophical man, a studied man -Didn't always mean that the ideas worked, mind. They sounded good, but then when it came down to it, things didn't always carry out as he had told you to expect. 

Young Sirius Black’s heaving grief for instance. Seeing the man cling to his godson after seeing his best friend laid out on the stairs was enough to rend Reubus’ heart in two it was. Still though. Dumbledore's orders.

Minerva however was a doer. She wasn't known as a battle axe for nothing. She cared about the children she was given to teach and everything she did was for their safety and prosperity. She also very nearly managed not to favour any of the Houses, and having been a Slytherin in his day Reubus knew a thing or two about that. 

So when Minerva, who was an upstanding half-blood daughter of a Presbyterian minister thought that Harry’s family were ‘the worst sort of muggles’, it got Reubus to thinking. Minerva knew muggles, she did. She was the one who went to tell muggleborns about their magic. 

So when Dumbledore wanted to leave the child outside the muggles’ door on a blustery November night and Minerva disagreed, it made Hagrid pause. 

So he went back. Just to make sure everything was alright as Dumbledore said it would be. There was something stirring in the pits and burrows of his heart. The same bit of him that always got him when it came to the misunderstood creatures. The beaten down monster types. 

He went back. 

The thing about Hagrid was that he was a woodsman. He may have been bigger than four full grown wizards, but he was used to being nice and quiet in order to hunt and not scare away all the critters or intimidate the beasties he cared for. 

This talent had been used in the war some. He knew he had a reputation for having a loose tongue but that was all a part of the show. If Rubeus Hagrid was talking about something, you'd probably do best to put it out of mind, as there was a good chance it weren't true. Imagine him, a giant, getting as drunk as all that? impossible. But people bought it. They simply expected a giant to be uncivilised and bawdy, no matter the truth of it.

When he came back to that strange place with all the matching houses and tucked Sirius’ bike a while off so that he could creep closer he saw with some consternation that the child was still there hours later. Weeping and wailing and screaming for his mother who was never going to come for him again. Only the storm replied to those cries now. Those muggles in the house surely didn't. 

He didn't know if he'd ever really directly disobeyed an order from Dumbledore before except when it came to misunderstood animals. And Rubeus felt like perhaps this little bairn wasn't being thought of when Dumbledore had made his decisions. Couldn't have been.

No matter the breed of the thing, babies needed shelter and warmth. That was the number one thing they needed to develop and grow. And they needed to be watched over and fed and then taught how to walk and hunt and live and how to avoid being eaten and, if possible, taught how not to eat the wrong thing in turn.

Rubeus thought that these people weren't going to do very well with all of that if they'd left the child out there like that. 

He thought about what to do next. He'd just check. Maybe they didn't know better. Muggles didn't have wards or proximity alarms after all. He knocked on the door and then hid himself behind a large vehicle across the street, watching the muggles’ reaction. 

A man who was big enough to fill the whole wizard sized doorway opened the door, yelling about being woken up in the middle of the night. He looked left, then right, and without even looking down he slammed the door shut. 

Rubeus frowned. 

He moved back to the door and knocked again, hoping that the muggle would look down if there was another knock, but apparently this muggle didn't learn at all. He did exactly the same thing.

After trying a few more times, with the muggle growing more and more angry;  _ furious  _ really, his face turning purple, uttering obscenities and all sorts of things about those  _ unnatural freaks _ , something rose up in Rubeus and he made a decision. 

This was the babe who had killed the dark wizard who had been terrorising their world for how long? It was not to be borne. 

He'd seen this face before, the one the muggle had. It was the face of fear. The type of fear that gets violent at that. The fear that gets beasts killed and wands snapped. Witches burned and all the rest. Hagrid had seen it, he had. 

Rubeus agreed with Minerva. This man was not a good guardian to leave any bairne with, let alone the saviour of the wizarding world.

He returned to that door one more time but this time he didn't knock. Instead he picked up little Harry, stripped him of his wet clothes and cuddled the poor cold thing in between his shirt and coat to help him warm up as he hurried back to where he'd parked the bike. He swallowed his fear at disobeying the headmaster and rode away, disappearing into the sky. Harry was safe and dry tucked into his coat, and under his beard, lulled to sleep by the rumbling of the engine. It would be alright.

Where could the child be? Even more importantly, what would those magical people do when they found out the child wasn't there?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so lovely hearing from you all, I'm so glad you like this story so far, hope you've had a good week! I'll be trying to post on wednesdays or thursdays <3

Rubeus had raised a great many babies from birth. Cubs, pups, kits, kittens, lambs, kids, calves, goslings, ducklings, chicks; and then the more magical sorts on top of that. They were all precious and wonderful little things...but he had never in all his years raised a baby wizard before.

Nevertheless he found he was just about as good at it as with any other beastie.

Thankfully the child was already weaned. Lily had done a good job with him in Rubeus’ opinion, so he was able to keep him fed with what he could gather from the forest and his garden. Little Harry loved pumpkin mash and taters, fresh bread and any kind of fruit he could get his hands on.

He was even happy to chew on whatever he’d had caught on his hunt. Of course as a wizard child he didn't have fur of his own other than the lovely curly mop on the top of his little head, and as they lived in their little cottage in the highlands of Scotland he needed to be very careful to keep the child dressed warm enough. He made sure to wrap him up in wool and fur skins and he was happy enough just so long as the fire was going.

He was however, grateful to the point of tears when he realised he wouldn't have to raise Harry alone.

He’d had the boy one night when the elves came. They appeared with the falling of the sun, knocking on the door all polite-like. He hadn't really had much to do with house elves other than whenever their roles of taking care of the school aligned. They were all busy folk, if a little tricksy now and then.

Rubeus was fairly content to be as self sufficient as he could. The elves certainly didn't come out to his cabin very often at all, so it was quite a shock he had when a contingent of eleven little elves knocked on the door beaming.

They all stared at the child and burst into tears. “We sensed him in Hogwarts!” One cried, “The Great Harry Potter!” All the other elves had similar things to say. They all knew who this child was, and what he had done for all creatures as magic as they knew it had been in danger with the Dark Lord Voldemort’s rise.

Rubeus felt his own waterworks turn on as he sniffled with them.

They knew. They _understood_.

He ushered them into his little hut and they all gathered around where little Harry was sitting in a nest of fur chewing on fistfuls of his dinner and gurgling away happily enough.

They asked why Rubeus had him when they had heard about him going to live with his family. So he had told them about the muggles and the elves all agreed that he couldn't stay there.

They had a great discussion and decided that wix weren't always the wisest of creatures, and that Harry would be safest at Hogwarts.

 And so Rubeus had help.

House elves were brilliant with kids, which was often why families got them in the beginning. Their magic grew strongest when there was a child around, and thus they had grown to revere and protect wixen children. It was a very special relationship, between elves and young wix. As such, they were often able to know things about the bairns’ health and emotional state, and were often able to see their needs before they even had them.

Rubeus carved a cot for the boy, and the elves brought a soft down mattress and pillows and blankets, as human babies certainly had different needs to adult half giants. They also helped adjust the cottage, setting wards and plugging all the little cracks and holes and gaps in the walls and roof so the building would be draft free and dry.

They brought foods that babies needed that he couldn't provide, and sewed him clothes that fit him well and were up to the wear and tear of a crawling toddler. Rubeus felt proud that he was able to provide some leathers and skins that were made into beautiful coats and cloaks, and used to reinforce knees and elbows of his other clothes so the child would be protected on the grounds and by the forest.

They also helped with the babysitting, and between them all they were able to share the load in order to make sure the Great Harry Potter was safe and cared for so that he could grow up Big and Strong for when he was once again needed to help the world of magic and all its creatures as had been fortold.

It was surprisingly easy to hide a small wizard in a half-giant’s house. For once a creature Rubeus reared didn't grow to be too large for the space in the blink of an eye. Instead he grew just as fast as he ought to, for a little wixen lad.

His cheeks were round and rosy, his eyes clear, and his giggles filled the cabin often. The elves helped with the soiled nappies and baths, and mealtimes, and kept up with the laundry as little wizards sure did go through a lot of clothes. Rubeus could do a lot, but the elves were invaluable with their magic. And they did so love Harry. They were so happy to have a baby at the castle, and especially this one, so much that they all argued over the chores to be able to help the Great Harry Potter. Rubeus had his duties to attend to, which couldn't falter as it would draw the eye of the Headmaster; but there were quite a few elves, so with many helping hands they all managed together.

And so time went on. The littluns’ up in the castle had their Christmas holiday and Rubeus lopped and carried in the trees and helped the elves with the turkeys for the feast just as he did every year. Dumbledore was curious about whichever marvellous creature had Hagrid keeping so close to home, especially as he was tight lipped about it, which happened when it was illegal or terribly dangerous, but just as long as Rubeus kept the children out of any danger, he left him to his duties and his quiet life in the forest and his cabin. Hagrid had his uses after all, and it was imperative to keep the assets content with their lot so that they'd be playable when needed.

Rubeus and the elves had their own little Christmas that year, for the first time of many. He'd knitted Harry a little hat and carved him some toys. It wasn't much but the boy seemed quite happy with his gifts, as well as his dinner.

He elves conspired and brought Harry a little kneazle kitten. It was black with curiously curly fur and green eyes. Harry adored it. They called it Dorea. That was Harry’s grandmum’s name. Rubeus thought it was a great name that. They also supplied a soft toy doe and hart, which Harry loved. Rubeus and the elves heard the boy call them P’ongs and Lil, and there wasn't a dry eye in the gathering.

When Rubeus came down from the feast at the castle little wizard was fast asleep curled up with that cat, and you wouldn't know where Harry’s hair ended and the cat’s began.

And so the child grew. He was watched over by Hagrid and the elves and Dorea who grew quickly and did her job at protecting her boy.

Rubeus was able to teach him to speak. He taught him Gaelic first, which he knew he was better at pronouncing; and when he taught him English he worked harder to sound everything out properly so that Harry didn't pick up his bad habits. It was hard though. Talking was just talking. The elves taught Harry to walk, making the floor soft when he fell and making sure he knew he was safe when he had a bit of a scare. Didn't do to let a child grow scared of making mistakes. They had to be unafraid of the world -just so long as they knew real danger when they saw it.

Rubeus had worried about teaching Harry to read but the elves turned up with books; somehow finding them wherever they seemed get to all the other things.

It was around the first half of Harry’s second year with Rubeus that there was another unexpected knock on his door.

He opened the door to see Professor Flitwick standing there, looking rather intent. It was a surprise to say the least. He didn't come out of the castle much. He was only a quarter goblin but he was still more at home tucked away within the dense stone walls of the castle rather than out here with the big old sky overhead.

Apparently the magic of the castle had been shifting. Goblins were very sensitive to things like that. It was what made them so good at burrowing into the earth and building wards. They could feel the magic in things; hear it almost like it spoke with words. If anyone was going to be able to read the currents of ancient magics like Hogwarts and notice the changes it would be him.

He'd noticed that the castle was shifting, the protective magics building up to keep Rubeus’ cottage safe and hidden and unnoticed by wizardkind. It got to the point where Filius decided to investigate, as interestingly it wasn't those of Creature blood that were being kept away but _wizards_. And seeing as it was a school for wizards… well he would see.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kittens, sorry I missed a week! I had a bad flare (so no typing) followed by a family trip to my place of birth in the australian bush; the trip was good overall and seeing the place I spent my formative years in. I grew up in the beautiful bushland of south western australia; not quite as idylistic as this story but I smiled at the realisation that some of the feelings I was peeking at in my own psyche with this story were present because of growing up around so much beautiy and wildness. So I have been having FEELINGS, and will take a while to process them I think. 
> 
> I have decided that the official story will only have one more chapter I think. I've written more but it sort of gets into a different narrative style and is messy. I think I'll maybe add some more as a tack-on later? but for now here is the chapter
> 
> ps/Oh! also I had some questions about what 'wix' means, as far as I'm aware it is the gender neutral address for witches/wizards. I am not actually sure whether that is a fandom thing or a real world thing though

Filius Flitwick, the Charms Professor up in the castle was quite alarmed when he found out exactly who it was Rubeus had hidden away. Harry, who was quite used to house elves by now was quite fascinated by Filius’ appearance and the differences between him and the elves. Filius quickly fell in love with the inquisitive boy just as much as the rest of them had.

Rubeus poured them both some firewhiskey and he told Filius the story of where he'd found Harry and why he had felt to intervene. Just like with the elves something hardened in Filius’ expression the longer Rubeus spoke. Goblins revered children. They were more precious than all of the gold in their vaults (and everyone knew how protective they were of their gold). And so he agreed to keep their secret. And even better, he decided to do what he could to help.

Filius began to teach the boy when he could, and brought even more books into little Hadrian’s life. He felt something settle in him as he spent time with the boy. There was something different about this kind of teaching than the lessons he gave up in the castle. He visited as often as he could and taught little Hadrian to read and write in both engllish and Gallic. While he enjoyed their lessons immensley and saw Harry delolop in leaps and bounds, he knew there was more he could do. It would be hard and uncomfortable, but he felt that it would ultimately be worth it.

After all, while Hagrid and the elves had done a very good job so far, none of them were healers, and neither was Filius, and they were hardly going to take the boy to St Mungos where half of the healers were in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket and the other half owed Dumbledore something.

And so when the summer break arrived and Filius’ time was his own he bundled Rubeus and Harry up and made sure they were dressed and groomed well enough for a trip to Diagon Alley. Rubeus of course would have drawn more attention had he especially dressed up than if he hadn't, but he made sure he was wearing clean clothes (something that happened a little more often with the regular company of house elves, admittedly)  and there was no food in his beard.

They journeyed into Gringotts, taking an alternate route little known to wixenkind to avoid Diagon Alley and any undue attention their presence would draw. There within the walls of the goblin nation Filius withstood the usual disdain he received from his kin (which doubled when he was seen in the company of a half-giant and wizard child) in order to have a serious conversation about multiple vault heir Hadrian James Potter and his rather unique situation.

The goblins responded gravely when they heard of the child’s near abandonment, as Filius knew they would, and the Potter Account Manager was called as well as a goblin healer. The Potter family had been given status of Goblin Friends many generations ago and so got a little more flexible treatment than most wix, particularly the boy who survived the killing curse due to his mother's wits and cunning; the boy who was prophesied to end the dark abomination Voldemort for good.

While the healer looked over the boy, the current Potter Account Manager Srikefist revealed many sharp teeth as he grinned at the challenge of finding a legal loophole so that vault holder Rubeus Hagrid would not be penalised for his intervention. He had always enjoyed working with the Potters. They'd always had a good relationship, one of trust and friendship, and as such he had a lot to work with and was certain they would find something to keep the wixen world at bay.

The benefits of Hadrian James Potter’s current placement with Rubeus Hagrid and the other guardians were clear to any creature who could see or sense magic. The child and his magic were thriving under the care of Rubeus Hagrid, the elves, and Filius as well as the magical security of the semi-sentient magic of Hogwarts. Except when it came to the scar on the child’s forehead.

The healers found filthy death magic in the child’s scar. An abomination had taken root within the child’s very flesh! Rubeus grew almost impossible with worry when he was informed Hadrian James Potter would have to stay in their care until they removed and destroyed it, but the goblins assured him that they had ancient and strong healing magic, and they were able to intervene better than anyone else would be able to. Goblins didn't forget like other creatures did. They collectively knew of seven different rituals to get rid of the abomination, and they would choose the ritual they used wisely. Dumbledore may have been able to achieve one of them but he had neglected to do so even before he had abandoned the child, and so the goblins decided to intervene. Doing a Potter a favour had never lead them astray so far, and they had a feeling their help would be a good move this time also.

Goblins were good at cleansing magic. They needed to be in their line of work. All sorts of things liked to attach themselves to treasures, and wixenkind were the worst for tainting objects with their magic. The renowned Gringotts curse breakers and healers worked together over a lunar cycle to rid the child of the abomination that clung to him, and then to bring him through recovery; going even further and making sure he was protected in the future from the one who had caused the harm. The child’s mother had done well, particularly for one from a line who had forgotten the magic that flowed through their veins, but they could strengthen what she had done and add more protections beside them.

The boy was kept with them in the depths of Gringotts for quite some time, and they found that he was one of the most tolerable wizards many of them had ever come across. They taught him the basics of their language, and he learned some of their foundational lessons for fighting skills as well. They called him the Thunderhead (the goblins wish you to know it sounds better in Gobbledigook); goblins respected nothing more than someone who had won victory in battle and this child had already done so, and it had been foretold that he would do so again.

They also built upon the foundations Rubeus Hagrid and Filius Halfwizard had begun and taught him to count. It was a skill they were generally fine with wizards lacking, but they found that this child was worthy of the knowledge. Goblins knew when an investment was worthwhile. Their seers where clear. This child was to be taken care of. The child would fight more battles in days to come, battles for the fate of magic itself.

By the time Hadrian James Potter the Thunderhead was ready to go home to his cabin on the edge of the Dark Forest, Strikefist was ready. Goblins were in the business of contracts, and contracts came from oaths and vows, accords, covenants, promises and agreements. As such, their magic carefully recorded down all of these that were spoken or written by their clients within the walls of Gringotts or in the hearing of a goblin, and while Albus Dumbledore may have used his authority to seal up the wills of multiple vault holders and goblin friends Lord James Fleamont Potter and Lady Lily Diana Potter before they were read, they still had a record of the words of Lord James Fleamont Potter and they were thus: ‘...To be perfectly honest Srikefist, I'd rather have Rubeus Hagrid the _groundskeeper_ as guardian of Harry before I'd let Petunia and Vernon Dursley near him. Let me be clear. Under no circumstance should our son be placed in the hands of those muggles…’ It had been an offhand comment made during one of three sessions that the Potters had spent with their Account Manager writing their wills. Having seen the wills and witnessed their signing as well as been the Goblin to file them, Strikefist knew that the Potters had been careful and very thorough when writing their wishes and intentions down. They had left a very long list of candidates of preferred potential guardians for their son. Strikefist knew that list had been thoroughly depleted by the time the Potters died bravely in battle and that Rubeus Hagrid was not on the _official_ list, but it _had_ been spoken, and they had a record. In Goblin law that was enough, and as Lord James Fleamont Potter knew goblins, they knew he would approve. He wouldn't have said it otherwise.

The Potters came from the Peverells, and the Peverells were famous for tricking Death herself. The Potters were known for their trickery and mischief, and the goblins approved. The wixen family had a long history of working with the goblins to trick gold out of many pockets over the generations, and they knew Hadrian James Potter would make himself and them richer still, especially if he was trained by goblins. It was imperative, as James Fleamont, nor Charlus Percival Potter were not there to teach him in person. As such, Strikefist had taken the time during little Hadrian James Potter’s stay to visit with the child, and began to tell the boy stories of his ancestors’ battles and trickery, for the boy would do well to know where he came from, and especially why he was given the privilege that came with being a goblin friend. He couldn't tell the tales the way his ancestors would have, but something was always better than nothing.

Hadrian James Potter’s vault of memories wouldn't be empty when he left Gringotts and the goblins, he made sure of that.

They made sure they had contingencies lined up, if the wixen insisted on charging Rubeus Hagrid and taking the boy; including putting the wheels in motion to get the Hadrian James Potter’s legal guardian, his godfather vault holder Lord Sirius Orion Black out of Azkaban where he had been unjustly sent without a trial, but the goblins tried to avoid meddling with wixen problems too often, as once they intervened, the wix would want their input for _everything_. Wix made too many mistakes and were far too careless with justice. Nevertheless if anyone they approved of asked them to produce evidence for a trial for the wizard, they had it ready. For a price, they would hand it over. In the meantime, the ministry were refused when they were asked to hand over the Black assets and gold. They had no right to it, and the goblins didn't do what they didn't want to do.

The ridiculous farce of a Wixen Ministry was precisely why the creatures had felt the need to take Hadrian James Potter’s care into their own hands. Not even a Wizard as exalted as vault holder (possible thief) Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore couldn't be trusted with Hadrian James Potter. The creatures of Hogwarts were going just fine with the child’s rearing in the goblins’ estimation, especially now that he had been freed from the dark magic that had been leaching off of him like a parasite. The damage wix tended to do to their magic in their pursuit of being civilised seemed to be minimised while the child learned and played in and near the Dark Forest and the shores of the Black Lake. The Thunderhead lived close to the earth and her magic, and seemed to understand the natural order of things. Life and death. Cost and investment. Everything came from something. There were different ways of gaining things but they always came from somewhere. Or someone.

Theft was the worst of crimes; one gained things through barter, trade, or by conquest.

These were important facts. The goblins saw that Hadrian James Potter had learned them well.

One month after Filius brought Hadrian James Potter into Gringotts he was released from their care with instructions that he routinely be brought back to be examined to be certain that all the foreign magic had been cleansed and that it didn't come back. Dark had a habit of calling more dark. He was also to be brought back for lessons, and along with a pair of Goblin made spectacles that he had paid for out of his trust vault for a special goblin friend price, he was bestowed with a very rare treasure; he was given a portkey that would send him to the goblin nation if he ever needed to plead sanctuary. It was a last resort, but it was a very real offer. Filius and Rubeus made sure to instill the stakes into Hadrian, so he knew it for what it was.

And so they went back home. As it was summer they spent long days in the forest, picking berries and foraging for all the different ingredients young Severus needed to brew the potions for the hospital wing. They also picked extras that they would be drying for use in the winter.

Sometimes the elves would come along. They didn't like the forest as much as Harry and Rubeus did, being small and easily eaten, and so the half-giant carried them on his shoulders with Harry or in his pockets, helping them down to pick the necessary items and then when each of their baskets were full they would disappear back to the castle.

and thus, little Hadrian Potter continued to live out his childhood in Rubeus' care. 


	4. Chapter 4

Rubeus was a simple man.

He knew he wouldn't be able to teach Harry everything, but at the same time he knew a lot in his own way; and the goblins had seemed to think that was good for the boy, and so he taught him all he could. After all, his own father had raised him in secret too. Half giant as he was, his da’ had to work around a fair few complications, and Rubeus had to do the same but reversed really. 

His mum had wanted nothing to do with him and his da’ had done it all. Taught him as much as he could and got him into Hogwarts which was no small feat. Rubeus had been expelled in the end of course; but that was more to do with Tom Riddle, and nothing to do with how well he did in school. He hadn't been the brightest student of the lot but the longer Rubeus lived the more he thought that people like Tom Riddle weren't something he wanted to be like after all. He wished he had use of his wand of course, but he liked his life well enough, and with little Harry in it, life was just about near perfect.

Rubeus’ da’ had taught him a lot through living, and through stories, and through the forest, and so that was what Rubeus did too. Harry’s introduction to the world was about survival. Shelter, warmth, food and water. Don't take more than you need. Death and life. Animals died and their flesh fed themselves and other animals and their skin was used to keep them warm and their bones had uses too.

The plants were the same. Everything that died was used by everything around it. Harry learned how to grow vegetables and how to rear chickens at home. He learned how to walk in the forest and how to tell which mushrooms to eat and which never to try, because if he got it wrong he would be poisoned. It was alright if he pointed them out to Rubeus though, and if they were okay to eat Rubeus would pick them. He made sure to keep checking that Harry wasn't secretly thinking he could tell the difference or getting a little big for his britches as all children do occasionally, as it wasn't a mistake he'd survive if he got cocky.

As he grew a little older Harry got a head start on herbology, potions, and care of magical creatures. Filius even gave him some very rudimentary runes as he taught the boy to read and write Gaelic and Gobbledegook, and gave him history lessons to supplement Rubeus’. The goblins kept track of his progress through Filius and all were very approving of the boy’s thirst for knowledge and his humility, proving that wizards learned to be terrible; they weren't necessarily born that way.

Rubeus knew wizards were more fragile than he was. Harry needed to be protected; but there were many things that he could learn safely, and he did. He was like a little sponge. Listening and learning from everything around him. His mother Lily had been like that, Rubeus remembered her well.

And Harry had inherited his da’s ease of moving. There was a physical grace and energy to the boy that young James had owned; though that boy had been spoiled rotten by Charlie and Dorea- not that it was a bad thing mind, and maybe Rubeus was biased, but he felt like that Potter energy was put to better use in Harry.

The boy was excellent with a bow. The goblins had made him some training weapons in exchange for some of his gold and had trained him in aim and proper grip and basic footwork. Rubeus slowly taught him how to use that knowledge in the wild.

He knew wixenkind would feel funny about a boy so young learning the skills of war from goblins and giants, but Rubeus saw it for the privilege it was and made sure Harry improved upon it, so that the goblins would see their investment bring in return.

And they did.

The years passed.

Harry grew up on the grounds of Hogwarts on the edge of the forest. He grew strong and unafraid, but watchful and not as stupidly reckless as Rubeus had to admit a great many Potters had been in past generations.

His swarthy complexion, brought into the Potter line from a number of wonderful witches of Indian and Iranian descent in past generations had a healthy glow from plentiful exposure to the sun during Scotland's short summers. His hair, the famous Potter curls, were often home to twigs and leaves and even a bowtruckle or two, and his bright green eyes added an air of whimsy to the wixen boy. His hands and feet grew calloused and work worn, though the elves made sure he was clean and healthy.

He, like Rubeus, dressed in the greens and browns of a woodsman, and often had his bow and a quiver full of arrows with him, as well as some oilskin bags with Fillius’ undetectable extension charms on them to collect all that he foraged for in his beloved forest.

He learned to hide from the children and professors who ventured out to their cottage on occasion. He asked why he needed to, and why he couldn't go into the castle that stood so close to his home, the castle all the adults in his life worked in, and most had their homes in. Rubeus sometimes struggled to answer why. He didn't want to say it wasn't safe, because the boy would one day have to go inside and make his home there for most of the year, but it wasn't time yet. So that was what he said. “When you're eleven, that's when you’ll go. But for now, we get to keep yer.”

While Reubus taught him how to survive, Filius taught him how to read and write. He came bearing books and parchment and quills, as well as beads and abaci to count; he even taught him wand forms, using a stick to teach him the rhythm of wixen magic, but also informed him there was plenty he could do without a wand. The boy was near bursting with magic, and it was best if he learned to control it early, especially when other children didn't have near enough to use at the same age. Filius often watched Hadrian in his lessons and wondered what on earth the would have happened to the boy in the muggle world with bursts of accidental magic that included apparition!

It was wild magic, wandless magic, magic of the heart and the mind and the skin, and it was important to have control or it would be a weakness instead of a strength. They also discovered that Harry’s run in with Tom Riddle had made him Magic sensitive which, had he not the time to learn how to deal with it through patient teachers who were all creatures and thus naturally magic sensitive, would have been a serious disability which would have made studying in the castle extremely difficult. Instead, he learned to use it to pick crooks and dishonest people, and those who misused magic and tainted the world around them. He also learned to channel some magic from and into the earth and nature around him so that he didn't overload and burnout.

During the summers Rubeus would take Harry deep into the forest, and they would camp for weeks at a time, living in the outdoors with no castle or wixen in sight. Rubeus thought Harry should know how. If he was ever in danger that caused him to need to run and hide, that he could survive, and even thrive on his own or with creatures of the forest. That was the rule of creatures and beasties. If you couldn't fight, then you ran and you hid. That was how you survived, and it worked well enough, they could all attest.

Harry was taught to whittle and carve. He was taught how to build a fire, and to dig out and build different kinds of shelter for different situations and weather conditions. He was taught how to find water and how to track animals.

He met creatures of the forest, introduced by Rubeus, who knew most of them, even if he didn't have a relationship or allyship with them. There were the centaurs. They were intrigued by the boy who had survived the wizard’s death curse, only to be left alone by the wixen. They seemed amused that Rubeus, the elves, and the goblins had taken things into their own hands. They told Rubeus that he had averted great suffering for the boy. They asked him to bring the boy back twice a year and they would teach him their own ways.

Rubeus knew what an honour that was, and he agreed.

Harry learned a lot from the centaurs. He learned about the fates written in the stars, and much more about the cycles and weavings of life. They taught him other ways of hunting, helped him improve and expand upon his skills with a bow (goblins used them for war, centaurs used them for food, for the most part), how to make his own arrows if he ran out of the ones he had commissioned from the goblins, and how to use all of the parts of different animals.

They didn't, however, teach him how to read the stars. Instead they asked Rubeus to bring him four times a year, and then as he grew older, for every sacred day. Harry celebrated the solstices, learned how to read the sky and forest to predict weather patterns in order to be safe, as well as knowing what plants would be around when, and what beasts would follow the plants, and what beasts would come after those beasts… knowing what prey and what predators would be around was intrinsic to survival. Rubeus had already shared this of course, but he was a top tier predator, so his experience was different to the centaurs.

The herd filled in the gaps in Reubus’ knowledge and taught him about the sacredness in life. They added a spiritual side to Harry’s knowledge, and Harry found he benefited from it. He knew from Strikefist that his family worshiped Pan and the Lord of the Forest, and he was happy that he was able to learn these things from the herd. Rubeus in turn learned a great lot of things from the centaurs through Harry, and the school benefited from their groundskeeper’s new found allyship with the herd.

For the first time since his father died, Rubeus set up an alter in a beautiful clearing near their cottage, and he once again learned to open up his spiritual side, a side that Dumbledore had done his best to stamp out of his friends and assets. He knew he had a lot to catch up on, but performing the rites with Harry opened up something in him that he found to be very healing. He began to feel like he was a whole person, even without a wand.

There were other creatures as well. The unicorn herds were fond of the wild wizard boy and the lunar wolves, a highly persecuted and hunted breed of fiercely intelligent wolf who were born to werewolves who mated on the full moon were interested in the boy as well. They had intervened when the boy was in danger more than once, and he had shared the spoils from his hunt with them on three occasions, and traded meat for fur and skins left behind from the wolves’ other kills.

And then there were the snakes. Harry, it turned out, was a parselmouth. There was a time when Rubeus would have been dismayed to hear that, but the goblins had taken the darkness from him and done a thorough job, and had given him a clean bill of health so Rubeus let him be. The snakes wouldn't bite the lad, instead they seemed to revere him.

Funny creatures snakes. So often misunderstood. Rubeus learned to love them just as much as any other creature, though Argog wasn't happy about it.

As time went on and no wizards came to take Harry from him Rubeus wondered at that. Did no one care the Boy-Who-Lived was missing? He would have thought the ministry would have gone after him or Dumbledore would have come knocking.

He knew eventually they would come. He'd have to return the child to civilisation, knew he'd be caught and probably be thrown in with the dementors again, but time marched on and nobody came for the child or for his job. Rubeus Hagrid wasn't one to dwell on things like that, so he just continued to do his best in raising the boy, knowing Filius would keep his ear out for trouble and do his best to confuse the trail for anyone who came sniffing. He felt it was worth it to give little Harry the best life he could. Every time he heard the child laugh or saw his expression of victory when he had achieved something or gained new knowledge his heart grew. He hoped James, Lily, Charlus and Dorea were proud of him. He knew they would be proud of Harry of course, but he really hoped _he_ was doing a good job.

Harry was smart he was, and Rubeus managed to keep up somehow, and where he couldn't, the elves, Filius or the goblins or the centaur herds would be there too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi folx, sorry this took so long to get to you but my brain has been so fuzzy. 
> 
> as it is I didn't give this a last edit on top of the many times I'd already looked at it so I hope it's ok, I jsut wanted to get it posted at this point as the no-post-guilt was getting to me. 
> 
> this has been a joy to write but here's where I'll end it for now. 
> 
> if I write more it will be in bits and pieces and I'll just throw them on the end here 
> 
> anyway thanks so much for reading, and thank you so much for your comments they mean so much!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Here is another chapter for you!
> 
>  
> 
> It’s so good to hear that there are others in this fandom that enjoy sweet lil dreamlike imaginings, and that you like this one
> 
> As for how much more of this story will be happening well… Who knows? My brain is notoriously hard to wrangle and my muse along with it, but I will say that this lil universe is very nice place to hide so there will probably be more but it won’t be a massively in depth long fic, I have too many long haul wips on the go for that to happen, but there will be more. It will be choppy and indulgent, but perhaps that’s just part of its charm x 
> 
> as such I'm making this the last chapter for this work and his new venture into the world of wix will be in a new story, so make sure you subscribe to the series if you wish to receive notifications <3
> 
> **content warning for racist and xenophobic thinking at the start of this chapter**

//////////////////////////

  
Everyone who saw Harry Potter on the 31st July 1991 found themselves quite surprised by the boy.

He was dressed in threadbare muggle clothing, worn sneakers and had dirt under his nails that showed he was often found in the garden. There was even a bit of dirt where he'd missed it when washing on the back of his neck that morning, giving him quite the dishevelled appearance, and not one that reflected his status as an heir of an Ancient and Noble House.  
There were, of course the things they knew from the stories and his parentage; he had the bronze skin and lush, wild black curls that almost seemed to have a life of their own that marked a Potter anywhere they went, along with Lily Potter’s famous vibrant green eyes that clearly held the intelligence she was known for.

He did have a lightning scar on his head, but it was both _more_ and _less_ than they'd heard in the tales that had come from the sparse reports from the night his parents died. Their idea of what he looked like had been formed by several children’s books and articles in the Daily Prophet that held about as much truth as any of their articles ever did, but none of them took this into account as they stared at him, feeling cheated and lied to; feeling like the child was the one who couldn't be trusted.

The famous scar wasn't a simple little zigzag on his forehead, but a great silvery lightning strike branching through his brow, just missing the side of his eye and another fork of lightning trailed down the side of his nose and cheek. It was clearly long ago earned and long healed and fading into his skin, which wasn't always possible with a curse scar. It was, if they were honest, quite frightening to the average witch or wizard. It felt dangerous, reminding them of veteran aurors and hitwizards who'd fought in the war; but this was a child, hero though he may be.

The now famous green eyes the colour of the _avada kedavra_ were markedly more eye catching than they were expecting, sitting as they were under his strong brows and framed by long black lashes that some would suggest _weren't very British were they_? It reminded them that the Potters had intermarried with _foreigners_ for many generations, making a habit to seek out and marry women that weren't related to them or half of England. The Potters had a taste for venturing far outside the bounds of the British Isles, roaming the world to find their brides, meeting women on their adventures who often had _careers_ and achieved masteries in _all manner_ of wild and arcane subjects. James Potter had of course married a nice English girl, and so had his father, but now that they thought of it she had been a _Black_.

It all came together to give the boy a dark, untrustworthy sort of look; as if he wasn't quite house broken or civilised, like he might just be _wild_. The patrons of the Leaky Cauldron hadn't thought _eyebrows_ could be impolite, but they decided that it was in fact possible when looking at this Harry Potter who wasn't at all like they'd been told.

The boy also had a stillness and grace to his gait that was often found in predators, and an arrogance to the eye (or what good English adults would call arrogance) that spoke of a sort of independence; a trust in his own instincts, rather than the more haughty confidence they were used to seeing even on the children in young Harry’s station as they strived to imitate their fathers. Instead of being put together, almost curated like the heirs of the Houses they all knew he simply didn't seem to care one wit for the opinions of the onlooker.

Not that he wasn't paying attention. The boy missed nothing, they were all sure; those bright, unnaturally (they'd decided) green eyes taking in every detail of his surroundings.  
He was also incredibly shy, blanching as he was surrounded by people in the Leaky Cauldron once they realised who he was. He scrambled up onto the bar, shocking Tom and all civilised patrons of the pub by hiding behind Rubeus Hagrid's great bulk as people tried to touch him, to get close to him, to gain his attention; as if his touch could cure them or somehow bring luck or success to their lives.

Rubeus got them out of there soon enough, to Tom’s relief; picking the boy up and putting him on his shoulders to get through the crowd to the courtyard out the back. After they’d ducked through the doorway with well practiced movements, used to having to duck to miss low lying branches, they quickly made their way through the portal to the alley. He tapped the bricks with his umbrella, making Harry laugh, and they entered the alley.

Harry of course hadn't been to this part of town. He'd always entered Gringotts from the creatures’ entrance, and so found it quite overwhelming and stuck to his perch on Rubeus’ shoulders. He’d always watched the children and professors of Hogwarts from afar of course, but here among the bustle of Wizarding London there were all kinds of people about in robes of every colour along with some very interesting hats and in the company of many different familiars. There were wixen of every age; adults and children, babies and elderly, all there to purchase whatever they'd come here for (and perhaps a few things they hadn't). He also saw in between and in the shadows, flittering too quick for the unobservant to see, there were quite a few non-human entities as well, goblins and elves, fairies even a banshee over by the apothecary.

Rubeus carried him through to the bank happily enough, and Harry made sure to whisper a greeting to the guard out the front in Gobbledygook from his perch. The guard gave him a savage smile as Harry told him he hoped he would ‘bleed his enemies dry’, a perfectly polite greeting in goblin culture, but if the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron had heard him uttering such a thing they would have been appalled.

Rubeus made a big show of giving Harry his key, which had them all suppressing laughs, as he'd had his own key to his vaults for so long now; and they went down down down into the depths to Harry’s trust vault. He'd been managing as much of the Potter accounts as he could since he was old enough for the goblins to allow it by their own laws, but most of it was still under the eye of Dumbledore, who had illegally taken stewardship after the deaths of Harry's parents. However Dumbledore was an appallingly hands off steward, and only really popped in to withdraw the Potters’ money, which meant that StrikeSwift and Hadrian had been able to make many decisions right under the old man’s hairy nostrils. And it also meant that Harry knew about every last Knut that the Headmaster had been stealing from his vaults, as well as the assets such as priceless books and family grimoires, which to Harry’s mind was far worse a crime. The goblins had assured him that the grimoires at least had many protective magics on them that would cost Dumbledore far more than gold when the time for reckoning came, which wouldn't be too long now.

  
Having been partly raised by goblins, Harry had been absolutely appalled at the gall of the man’s blatant fraudulence, and was seething when he'd been told that Dumbledore had taken several priceless Peverall heirlooms including the cloak spoken about in the folktale of the three brothers. They'd promised however, that they would aid him when it was time for a reckoning, but that it wasn't wise to make a move at the age of seven (which was when they'd told him of the state of affairs.) He had decided he agreed with them, and he did love his life with Rubeus and all of the creatures of Hogwarts and the Dark Forest. He would wait, and get better at battle, and then he would strike when his enemy least expected it.

Besides, when it came to vengeance, Voldemort was first on the list… but Dumbledore was on said list, and his turn would come.

And so, Harry enjoyed his time with the goblins, and was sad it would be such a short visit, but he promised he would keep in touch during the school year.

Rubeus made a big deal of picking up the philosopher's stone, because he was still a member of the Order and thus Dumbledore’s spy for the time being. Then they went and did their shopping, buying everything on the list, (and some things that weren’t).

Hagrid had some business to attend to at the Leaky Cauldron and as Harry did not want to go through that again, he allowed Harry to go off and get his uniform.

He slipped through the door quietly, and managed to remain unseen for a little while, observing the goings on. There was another boy there, about his age, who was also alone and getting fitted for his school robes. He was being quite fussy with the old witch who was serving him, double checking and triple checking that she was going to put his Family crest on his robes in precisely the right spot as well as the Hogwarts one, and that his socks were the correct colours for the ‘Noble House of Malfoy’.

The pointy blonde was an interesting creature; with grey eyes and hair that was so blonde it was almost silver, and skin that was so pale and soft that Harry wondered if he got any sun at all. Harry could see strain on his aura; he was clearly striving to imitate someone else against his nature. He was obviously anxious, and overcompensating for it by being incredibly rude and bratty to the long-suffering witch.

It was like a house elf trying to be a lunar wolf; a creature of nurture trying to be a top predator. Harry thought that someone with such a bright aura would do best in healing, but when he saw the boy’s sire and dam he knew they would try and change him. Harry sighed, but shrugged, it wasn't his business. As the goblins said, he'd help, but only if the right question was asked, and if there was a reasonable exchange or payment for his services.

The boy did however, start when he saw Harry and whispered almost reverently, “Are you-” and then caught himself, his expression closing off and as he gave Harry a stiff bow, his posture like a swift flowing stream suddenly freezing over, “Well met Heir Potter, I am Draco Malfoy, Heir of the Noble House of Malfoy,” though his eyes widened in shock and consternation when he took in the rest of Harry's appearance once his eyes were away from Harry’s scarring, even mouthing ‘what are those clothes?!’ in his artless eleven year old clumsiness.

Harry, who had sat through a lesson or two with the goblins in ‘the insufferable habits of the Ancient and Noble Houses) gave him a bow in return. “Well met, Malfoy,” He replied. Malfoy looked like he bursting to ask him something, but they were disturbed as two people who were clearly his parents entered the shop.

“Come Draco, you can make your friends on the train. We’ve got lunch with the Minister.”  
The boy stiffened, and nodded, turning back to Harry, “Well then Potter, I’ll see you on the Hogwarts Express,” he said, a blush lightly dusting his cheeks.

Harry, who wasn't about to give anything away by simply crossing the grounds to the castle and would indeed to be going on the Hogwarts Express answered, “Yes, you shall.” They exchanged bows again and Harry felt the two adults watching him closely.

Once they were gone he smiled at Madam Malkin who had been waiting patiently, “Do all the heirs have their family crests on their uniforms and special socks?”

She smiled, “Yes, Heir Potter.” The woman said without introduction, having recognised him just the same as Malfoy and everyone else he had come across that day had, “As for the socks, there is a tradition of wearing certain stripe colours and patterns to represent what House you are in, what year you are in, and later, whether you are a prefect or on your house’s quidditch team.”  
She waved her wand and summoned two individual trays of socks, one with three black stripes at the top, “These are your first year socks. You, being from the House of Potter will wear them on your left foot, and like your robes and ties, the stripes will change to your Hogwarts House colours once you are Sorted. And these,” she pointed to the other kind that had one deep maroon, idigio, and one thin line in gold metallic thread, “Are the socks that denote you as Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. You always wear them on your right foot. If you make the Quidditch team next year -which I'm sure you will if your father was any measure- you will wear your Hogwarts House’s Quidditch sock on your left foot, though those not of your station would wear it on their right foot…”

Thankfully no other customers came in for a little while and so Madam Malkin was happy to patiently explain uniform and dress customs and even chat about all the different charms used on clothes, which the boy who had been raised to think of clothing very pragmatically found very interesting. Harry was able to create a wardrobe that would be warm enough and last the full year, and almost more importantly, wouldn't embarrass his House or gain him too much attention, which would happen if he rejected any customs without knowing the full repercussions.

Survival was all about blending in with one’s surroundings after all. This was a different kind of camouflage, but just as important for survival.

He also ordered some charmed pockets in his robes after their lovely conversation, some for preserving food or plant samples or potion ingredients, and some for holding more than they physically should be able to. He liked magic, it was very, very useful. Of course he would be asking his elf friends to cast a few different things on his clothes later, but it was foolish not to take every opportunity and use the resources at your disposal while you could, especially when it was so easy.

Madam Malkin happily complimented him on his smart choices, and wished him a wonderful first year at Hogwarts. Harry liked that she hadn't said a thing about him being famous and had simply been kind and helpful. She had scored a lot of points with him, unlike the trunk salesman who had almost peed himself with excitement about the ‘celebrity’ in his shop like a wolf cub who hadn't even lived through their first winter. Having been raised by goblins of course, he’d taken advantage of the man’s inattentiveness and had gotten a brilliant deal the proprietor would be regretting later.

Harry found Ollivanders to be far less amusing. The man looked at him too closely, even for someone who was clearly Magic sensitive. Harry thought it was a little gauche if he was honest, to pretend like it was some arcane art to be able to read auras. There was also some confusion with his choice of wand.  
The man had been circumspect, of course, offering him a great many wands he knew would fail before he pulled out the one he thought Harry would bond to; but Harry’s magic didn't respond to it as expected at all.

When it instead behaved naturally and repelled the piece that was the sister to the wand which had been used to murder his sire and dam, the man straightened and sighed, “...I told him it was a foolish thought; sentimental bastard...So a yew wand for a Potter who favours the Peverell line. Good thing I made one just in case the old fool was wrong...” and brought out an eleven and a half inch yew wand with thestral hair core from out the back of the shop, and Harry’s magic sung as soon as his finger touched the wood shooting out gossamer thin ribbons of silver and black from its tip.

Harry gave the man a nod. Not letting the joy of meeting his wand show on his face, instead communicating an impatience, as if to say, ‘That wasn't so hard was it?’

He paid the seventeen galleon price for a special order ‘Peverell family wand’ baring with a few irritated comments of those ‘Peverells never making anything easy’ and Harry happily left the grumpy old man behind to put his shop back together after such a ridiculous farce.

Finally they got to go home. They flew of course on the bike, Harry’s owl soaring behind them, using the giant to take the brunt of the headwind, easing her journey.

Hedwig was a glorious creature, bought for Harry as a birthday present, this one very loudly presented to Harry in public. She was a large, snowy, almost completely white owl who was incredibly beautiful, but also incredibly eye catching. She was a decoy more than anything. Harry would not be sending her into the forest, or to Gringotts to deliver his correspondence to his mentors and allies, but nevertheless he was already in love with her, and she would do her job of protecting him by helping to make Dumbledore think he had Harry under his thumb for the next seven years. He also looked forwards to her companionship in the castle. He needed all the friends he could get.

Harry fell asleep against Rubeus, wrapped up in his coat and cloak, as well as a scarf and a hat made especially for travel on the bike. He was warm and sleepy, and the Dark Forest was a long way from London.

The sunset was so pretty when you were actually in the sky, and Harry found himself thinking that while Diagon Alley had been pretty awful, it had been a really good birthday overall.

  
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word on Harry’s ancestry:
> 
> My head canon for this is still forming but I pretty much have this idea that the vivacious and inventive and brave Potters loved to wander and often found themselves working with, learning from, competing against girls who were as brave and brash and argumentative. 
> 
> James Potter is known for falling head over heels for Lily Evans because she didn’t bow down to intimidation or his massive personality and instead called him an ‘insufferable toe rag’ and I see that happening a lot tbh. 
> 
> This head canon isn’t quite as cute as it seems however, nor is it a shallow grab for diversity. It has several implications and I don’t want to underestimate them. 
> 
> The colonisation the British Empire wrought out on the world wasn't cute and was hardly a good thing. While I enjoy the fun and mischievous feel we have of the Potters, which I explored a little a few chapters ago, there is an air in James Potter and Sirius Black’s canon behaviour of extreme privilege and ludicrously audacious presumption (yes I did think of the meme ‘Harry Potter and the Audacity of This Bitch’ while writing that sentence) and of their perceived ownership of the spaces around them and they could do as they wished.
> 
> James Potter’s canon actions very much add up to stalking and serial harassment of both Lily Evans and Severus Snape, and I figure there was a bit of that going on with other Potter men. 
> 
> Perhaps some were gentlemen, perhaps some fell in love looking at the sunsets in turkey or over an archeological dig in Uzbekistan, and perhaps the women who married into the line learned to love their husbands and went on to continue their careers and studies and inventing, but in the world of marriage contracts and colonialism one can only assume that there may have been many cases of the girls in question having very little say in the matter once their fathers realised their unmanageable unmarriagable daughters might be marriageable after all.
> 
> I figure this is where the parcel tongue really came from, (a healer from India a few generations back), and I figure it's how Dorea Potter nee Black ended up in the family: she was wild and impetuous and her paterfamilias decided the Potters were pure enough if only they would take her off his hands and he wouldn’t be responsible for her anymore. Maybe Charlus ended up in Ravenclaw, or perhaps they met during grindlewald’s war; who knows? Either way I figure she had to be a little wild. 
> 
> However, it does lead to Harry being brown and the Potter line having less issues that the other families who were more prone to inbreeding in the small gene pool of Wizarding Britain had to deal with, and another reason that Petunia and Vernon Dursley would have been so successful in convincing their neighbours that their nephew was a delinquent fussy eater who needed a ‘firm hand.’
> 
> As for the wand, I’m there with everyone who assumes the horcrux affected the wand choosing and the idea that people who favoured Peverell genes were well paired with yew and the straw heir, and as Harry repulsed the death curse well…it isn’t a well thought out head canon but there it is anyway
> 
> Oh one more thing; the sock theory is in a few of the fics I’m writing and is based on a tradition at Eton (the school Prince Harry and William went to) where they wear different socks which communicated some sort of class/club/sports tier system) and I basically pulled the rest out of my ass. I figure it's just another of those things tired and hungry and oblivious canon Harry might have had no idea about, especially with the weasels being poor, and with Neville's reputation of forgetfulness and Petunia's ideas, I'm sure on odd socks, I'm certain he wouldn't have thought too much about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Rubeus Hagrid gets awfully infantilised in the Harry Potter books, but he's a contempory of Tom Riddle's, so I wanted to see what we could do here. this is a bit of a fix-it, a bit of a daydream...
> 
> This story was borne of a few different irritants, and a few more whims. 
> 
> -In canon the kids call Rubeus Hagrid by his last name, despite their care for him, and so does pretty much everyone else the whole series. Barely anyone calls him by his first name. He's someone who gets a bad wrap, and I think he has a lot of potential to be a little fun and if he's allowed to move a little independently from Albus Dumbledore. Of course canon Hagrid is a bit of a lovable idiot, but this one isn't. 
> 
> -Also I found the idea that someone who cared for an injured acromantula and raised a cerebus just leaving a baby with horrible people to be a bit off. Minerva McGonagall had her cat instincts as well as her instincts of a teacher (though she is pretty negligent in canon so perhaps she has had those instincts dulled by being around Albus send-them-back-to-their-abusers Dumbledore. 
> 
> -Filius Flitwick is a brilliant character that is underused. 
> 
> But mostly I honestly loved the idea of Harry getting stolen by the creatures and brought to the Dark Forest (refered to as the Forbidden Forest by the time Harry goes to school) and turning up all tall and tanned with twigs stuck in his curls and a bowtrukle behind his ear and being absolutely floored by soft boyTM Theo Nott when he comes to live in the castle. 
> 
> I haven't found a proper end to this story yet but I don't think it will cover all of the years. At this point they are inside the castle but I don't know whether I'll write more or leave it open to the reader's imagination to extrapolate the happily ever after (but oh yes there is always a happily ever after or happy for now in my stories because I'm here for the comfort and softs. I write fan fiction to wrap my faves in blankets and feed them hotchocolate. If you want angst you are at the wrong place.


End file.
